


The Enchantress

by TMZai



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMZai/pseuds/TMZai
Summary: I decided that a change of canon was in order after the last couple of seasons of Once Upon A Time. This story mostly follows the canon, but diverges mid season 3, during the Wicked Witch story line. In this story, I have changed the origin of the Dark One and Neal doesn't die. The focus of the story is original characters that allowed me to change the canon line, and Rumplestiltskin and his family, Neal and Belle.





	1. Farewells

July 21st, 1983—The Enchanted Forest

 

 

He found her, as he always did, at the little cottage at the edge of the Dark Forest. It was not easy to reach, as simple as it seemed, for the Forest had a nasty habit of changing its twisting paths, and it was so very easy to become lost. But then, she had little desire to be found.

She was at the well to the side of the house, pulling up water by hand. Rumplestiltskin paused at the sight, remembering—half with fear, half with awe—the power that she had once wrought. Now, here she was, living like a _peasant_. He could have given her a palace, riches; a life she’d once had, if she’d ask it of him. But she’d found a kind of contentment here at the edge of nowhere, selling trinkets of power from the past to get by.

Sensing him, as she always seemed to, she set the bucket down and turned. She smiled, just slightly, and crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the well. Time had not changed a hair upon her head. She was still looked as gentle and beautiful as she had the night they had met. Rumplestiltskin had learned quickly that appearances meant nothing with her. She had the look of a china doll, with gold hair and large blue eyes, and gowned in a muted blue-grey dress.

She tilted her head to the side as he stood staring at her. “Hello, dearie,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Stop stealing my lines,” he retorted, but there was a trace of humor in his reply.

Neither moved. There was something almost tangible in the air between them. Something harsh, with its once sharp edges only slightly dulled by time and distance.

“It’s been a long time,” she said at last.

“Yes,” he said.

It had been almost thirty years. Thirty years since their last meeting, when she had screamed and railed at him, and demanded in the coldest of tones that he stay away from her. She had never wanted to see him again.

“…I owe you an apology,” she told him.

“You owe me nothing,” he said, “Trust me, I tend to keep track of such things.”

“Rumple.”

He had known her for more than a lifetime, but no matter how many decades passed, he never seemed to escape that admonishing tone. It stung, but he fell silent all the same.

“Please,” she said, “Let me say this.”

He jerked his head in a terse agreement.

“I was wrong,” she said flatly, “I should have trusted you. I let my grief and my anger make me blind, and I took it all out on you. That wasn’t fair and I’m sorry.”

“I take it you heard about our dear friend King George?”

“I did,” she said with a bittersweet smile, “Utterly ruined and locked away, his kingdom in the hands of a man he neither sired nor raised. It was heartening to hear.” She sighed and took a cautious step towards him. “When it reached me that you’d brokered a deal with George and his queen for a child—All I saw was red. I could only think that you had helped them slip through my curse with a technicality.”

 “You were grieving,” Rumple said, “You grieve still, else you would not be hiding at the border of my territory from the world.”

“It was my territory long before it was yours, pet,” she reminded him with a sharp and sweet smile, “You’d best not begrudge me this little corner of it.”

“I suppose not,” he said after a thought.

“So tell me truthfully, Rumple,” she said, “have you come by to gloat that you were right all along?”

“Well, maybe a little,” he admitted.

She laughed and shook her head. Still smiling, she leaned down to take up the bucket of water. “You might as well come inside,” she told him.

She started for the door, but Rumplestiltskin did not move. The teasing, jester-manner of his had vanished. She looked at him, a sudden apprehension filling her.

“Rumple?”

He opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of it.

“Rumple,” she said again, “why have you _really_ come?”

“The Queen has made her threat,” Rumplestiltskin said, “The Curse is in her hand and she has every intention to use it. I’ve made arrangements—Snow White and her _Charming_ prince are days away from ‘capturing’ me to protect the world from me. I shall be locked away—until the Curse is cast.”

“You’ve come to say goodbye.”

He turned to her, holding out a hand. “I didn’t want to leave things between us as they’ve been. I won’t have a chance after this. We’ve known each other too long, Alessa. I owe you too much to not say goodbye.”

“You owe me nothing,” Alessa said, repeating his words. She let out a breath and once more put the bucket down. “I will miss you,” she admitted, “despite all.”

“…You could still come with me,” Rumplestiltskin offered, “There’s still time to change the caveat that will leave you here when the Curse strikes.”

She read beyond his offer to the touch of question in his eyes. “Yeah, Rumple, you _do_ recall that the last time we wandered down that particular road, we ended up trying to kill each other?”

“Well, in all fairness, I did try to kill you first.”

“And that makes it so much better?”

“I was young and impetuous?”

“I wasn’t.”

Rumple’s teasing smile faded. “There were good times too,” he said, “weren’t there?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “but the fact remains, Rumplestiltskin, that you and I are too much alike.”

“Do you _really_ wish to be left behind?” he asked her, “To be the only one left in this land? What will you do with yourself?”

“Rest,” Alessa said. Still seeing doubt and confusion in his face, she continued, “I’m…done, Rumple. I’m done with the long game, with the fairies, with Blue. All I want is to be left alone. That will never happen as long as the Reul Ghorm and I share the same realm.”

“You’ve never told me,” Rumple murmured, “what began it all? What set you at each other’s throats? It must have been something spectacular, considering your feud has gone on for a millennia.”

Alessa smiled, a sad and secret thing. “In all the time we’ve known one another, I have never told you. What makes you think I’d tell you now?”

“Our last conversation? You’d still keep secrets?”

“What would we be without our secrets?”

“Lessa…”

“It’s an old story,” Alessa told him, “and not worth the breath. Leave it be, Rumplestiltskin.”

“As you wish,” he said, but the words were harsh and laced with disappointment.

“…Don’t be bitter,” she said, “Be happy. You’re on your way to find your son.”

“Yes,” Rumple said, lifting his head, “All these years, all of this work. Now, it’s so close.”

“…I doubt that it will mean much after all this time…but I am proud of you, Rumple.”

“…It doesn’t mean nothing,” he replied.

“You’re the best of them,” she told him.

“Out of all?” Rumple said, his tone disbelieving, even teasing, “All the way back to the first?”

“ _All_.”

“I will miss you too,” he said.

Alessa reached out a careful hand to touch his cheek. “Farewell then, my Dark One. May you find your Baelfire and make this right.”

Rumple gave her a last smile and turned, starting down the path away. Alessa tried to keep her own smile up as he went, but it was difficult. She took up the water and turned to the cottage door.

At the edge of the trees, Rumple stopped and looked back.

“Farewell,” he whispered as she went into the house, “Farewell, Enchantress.”


	2. Interlude

The Duke of the Frontlands was a fool, a fool with power, but a fool nonetheless. Zoso knew this, despaired at his wasted potential. For almost ninety years, he had carried this dark power. He’d had _such_ plans, but for the last decade he had been lashed to this imbecile, all his great potential wasted.

Deep in the dungeon of the Duke’s castle, he waited.

She would come—she always did.

“You called for me.”

Zoso turned in the darkness to see her, but she was hidden in shadow. “I’m done,” he told her, “I want out.”

“And we’ve had this conversation before,” she said with a sigh, “If you’ve nothing new to say—”

“I am wasted here,” Zoso said, “forced to be the lapdog of the Duke. Help me, damn you, _help me_.”

“That’s not what I do.”

Zoso growled, “Then let me _go_.”

“I don’t hold you,” she reminded him, “I’ve never held you, Zoso. You were your own creature until you were careless enough to lose your dagger to that fool.”

“You tricked me!” Zoso spat, “You caged me with this power!”

“You caged yourself,” she replied gently, “I only provided the chains.”

All the fight seemed to empty from him. Zoso sat, his back at the cold stone wall. He felt her kneel beside him, felt her gentle hand at his cheek.

“You _chose_ this power, Zoso. You sought out Merkel, stole the dagger, and took the power for yourself, all without ever knowing I existed. _You_ made the choice. _You_ wanted magic. And magic always comes with a price.”

Zoso was silent.

“Eighty-nine years you’ve been my Dark One. Ten have you been lashed to the Duke’s petty whims. You were once clever. The most devious man I ever knew.” She touched a hand to his chin. “Be that man again. Find your way out from under the Duke’s boot.”

“I loved you once.”

“I know,” she whispered, standing again, “You all have, at one point or another. I have ever been mentor and even mother to each of you.”

“Did you ever love me?” he asked her.

“I love you now,” she told him, “as I have loved you all. It breaks my heart, such as it is, to see you wasted, bound and chained like this. But I _cannot_ help you in this, Zoso. Once the dagger is in the hands of another, I have no power over it. You _know_ that.”

“I’m so tired, Alessa.”

“As am I,” she murmured. “Find your way, Zoso. I know you have it in you.”

“Then let this be our goodbye,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.

She looked at him, seeing the truth in his eyes. “Goodbye, Zoso. You did me proud, even with this inglorious ending.”

“I suppose it was inevitable. I had such an inglorious beginning.”

“Nothing is inevitable,” she said, her tone almost sharp.

Zoso smiled a little. “Goodbye, Alessa.”

She gave him one last long look—and then he was alone in the dark once more.

 

 

 

She watched from the shadows, as she had done for centuries now. Zoso, her clever one, had found a way around orders from the Duke. He had found a man, a desperate man, a man with no other options.

Alessa had watched him, this simple man, as he set fire to the Duke’s castle, watched him steal the dagger for himself. This man had been long mocked as a coward, from what little she had seen of him, but for his son…it seemed he was capable of much more than he seemed.

Now, in the dark of the forest alone, he named her Dark One, calling him forth.

“Zoso. Zoso, I summon thee.”

She saw him appear before the man did, watched the man start with fear and alarm when he turned.

“You were asking for me.”

The man’s voice shook with his fear, but he said the words. “Submit, O Dark One. I control you!”

“Yes, you do. Wield the power wisely.”

There was a moment of silence. The man seemed to have run out of words. But, as always, her Dark One had words enough.

“You can wield at any time now,” Zoso told him, with a touch of his old dry humor. “It’s almost dawn,” he said when the man continued in his silence, “That means it’s your son’s birthday.” He took a step towards the man, all menace and dread, “I bet Hordor and his men are already on their way to your house.”

“No, they can’t take him!”

“You don’t control them. You control _me_. —Have you ever wondered…was he really your child at all? Unlike you, he’s not a coward and yearns to fight and die in glory.”

 Unsurprised, Alessa watched and listened as Zoso taunted the man, pushing him to only one choice.

“What a poor bargain that would be,” Zoso murmured, “to lay down your _soul_ for your bastard son.” Again, he moved closer to the man, pressing him. “So, I ask you—what would you have me _do_?”

…

“Die.”

She felt the dagger enter flesh, felt it pierce the heart.

As it always did, the shift shook her, disoriented her, and she lost sight and breath for a moment, as the power moved from one vessel to the next.

“You told me to kill you.”

She heard the puzzlement and yet growing fear in the man’s voice.

“My life… was such a burden… You’ll see. Magic always comes with a price and now it’s _yours_ to pay.”

“Why me?” the man whispered, “Why me?”

“I know how to recognize,” Zoso said, his voice fading, “a desperate soul.”

There was a snap inside of her, like a thread being cut, and Zoso was gone.

“No,” the man said, desperately, “No, stay. You have to tell me what to do. Tell me what to do!”

But there was no answer.

“Rumplestiltskin.” She breathed his name and smiled just slightly. “Let us see what the power will make of you—Beggar’s choice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I was house-sitting and away from my computer.


	3. A New World

November 29th, 2011—The Enchanted Forest

 

 

 

 

She knew that people had returned to the forest. After twenty-eight years of perfect solitude, it wasn’t hard to read the changes in the air. Though she did not know how the Curse had passed over them, she was nowhere near as alone as she had assumed. Alessa took great care to remain quiet, moving through the forest gently in an effort to remain unnoticed. Few would dare approach the Dark Forest anyway, despite the fact that the Dark One was no longer in residence.

In truth, the last thing she expected was to see a bright-eyed little cherub of a child playing in her garden one afternoon.

Looking out her window, she blinked several times at the sight. He was a little thing, three years old at most, with dark curly hair. He was chasing the butterflies that were so attracted to her flowers, completely ignorant of who he had stumbled upon.

Alessa craned her head, trying to see how he’d come to be there, and saw telltale signs of passage through a patch of stinging ivy. Cursing the boy’s bad luck and curiosity, she went to her cupboard to pull out a small jar of balm, which she stuck into the pocket of her dress.

Heading for the door, she paused, absurdly nervous. “Come on,” she muttered to herself, “You were once a big bad sorceress—you can handle a toddler.” She took a breath and then went outside.

Moving slowly, she approached the boy, who paused in his chase of the butterflies to stare at her. “Hello.” Alessa knelt down in front of him, her voice gentle. “My name is Alessa. Can you tell me yours?”

The little boy rocked back and forth on his feet, hands tucked behind his back, shy.

“Okay,” Alessa sighed, racking her brains for what to do. For all of her centuries, she had almost no experience with children. They’d never been a part of her world, really. “Do you know where your parents are?” she asked him.

The child pointed vaguely to the west, leaving Alessa to bite back a curse.

“Alright,” she said gently, “well, we should try to find them. I’m sure they’re very worried about you.”

The boy looked a little nervous—and a little guilty. Alessa, though she knew little about children, recognized that look.

“You weren’t supposed to wander off, were you?” she asked with a little smile.

The boy shook his head.

“It’s alright,” she told him, “Let’s go back to them now. I’m sure that they’ll be very glad to see that you’re okay.”

The boy still looked wary of her and Alessa started to think she’d have to wait for the child’s parents to find _them_. She opened her mouth, and then paused, hearing something faintly from deep within the forest. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to listen.

“ _Roland! Roland, where are you?_ ”

The voices calling out sounded panicked, near desperate, especially one in particular.

Alessa smiled widely and opened her eyes to see the boy looking in the direction of her voices. “Is that your papa?” she asked.

Roland nodded and took a few steps towards the forest.

“Let’s go get him,” Alessa said, holding her arms out. Roland didn’t hesitate this time and let her take him up into her arms. She started towards the voices calling for the boy, taking the actual path rather than Roland’s trail through the ivy.

They hadn’t gone all that far when a tall man wielding a bow and arrow appeared upon the path. Alessa stopped, turning a little so that the boy was shielded by her. “Hello,” she said, as gently as she had greeted Roland.

The boy was straining in her arms to see the man, smiling brightly. The man lowered the bow, looking both absolutely relieved and still a little wary. “Hello,” he replied.

Alessa smiled down at the child. “Is this your papa?” she asked again.

The boy nodded and reached out his arms for the man. He came forward at once and Alessa passed the child to him.

“Oh,” the man whispered, clutching the boy tightly, “Don’t you _ever_ do that again, Roland. You scared me half to death!”

“Butterflies, Papa,” was Roland adamant argument.

Alessa had to smile, though she quite suddenly felt awkward once more. It had been so very long since she’d spoken with anyone other than herself.

“Thank you,” the man said, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, rubbing her hands on her skirt, “He, uh, was in my garden. Some of my flowers, they attracted a great deal of bees and butterflies and such. Oh,” she paused, reaching into her pocket, “I think he came in through a patch of stinging ivy to get there. I have a balm for it.” She held out the little jar.

The man blinked at her, and then he smiled. He had a kind face, Alessa decided. “Thank you,” he said again, taking the jar, “My name is Robin. May I ask yours?”

“Alessa.”

“I was in such a panic when we realized he was gone,” Robin told her, “We’ve had a few encounters with ogres these last couple of weeks.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about them here,” Alessa said, “They don’t come near this part of the forest.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Is it something I and my men should be concerned about?”

“No.”

Robin considered her. Her face was rather mask-like, but he sensed she was arguing with herself.

“I’ll show you,” she said at last.

“Alright,” he said, “Just a moment.” He turned and whistled sharply, three times. There was an answering whistle from some distance off and Robin looked satisfied with it. He turned back to Alessa and bowed his head. “Lead the way, my lady.”

She glanced off in the direction the other whistle had come from. “Friends?”

Robin didn’t miss the edge of wariness in the word. “My Merry Men,” Robin replied, “Had to let them know that Roland was found and safe.”

Alessa blinked and then smiled again. “Robin. You’re Robin Hood.”

He grinned and bowed his head again. “Quite right, my lady.”

“This way,” she said, starting down the path back to her home.

They turned a corner on the path and Robin paused, blinking. The cottage before them was of modest size, but the gardens that flourished around it were fit for a castle.

Alessa paused, glancing at him, wondering what he made of the expanse of flowers. “Here,” she said, moving forward to touch the most predominant of the flowers.

Robin bent down to release his son, who was jumping at the bit to chase the butterflies still abundant there and then he moved closer to examine the flowers. They looked rather like lilies, with wide open petals. They were a burnished orange in color with thin veins of brownish red through them, not especially pretty. He took a cautious sniff and found the scent subtle and pleasing.

“What is it?”

“They’ve been a pet project of mine,” Alessa said, sounding a touch proud, “ _Orcus Malum—_ which is my fancy way of saying ‘Ogres’ Bane.’.”

“Ogres’ Bane?”

“Ogres hunt by sound and smell,” Alessa said, touching the flower again, “These smell nice enough to us, but to an ogre it’s absolutely revolting.”

“Brilliant,” Robin murmured, “It’s so simple.”

“They took me the better part of a decade to properly cultivate,” Alessa said absently, “but it was nice to have a project.”

“A decade?” Robin stared at her, taking in her youthful face. “How old are you?”

Alessa smirked. “Older than I look.”

Robin blinked and the glanced around the garden, the wheels turning in his mind. “Alessa…how long have you been out here?”

“I’ve lived here almost a century now.”

“You…you were out here…during the Curse?”

“Yes,” Alessa said simply. She wasn’t looking at him. “You know, you’d be doing me a great favor if you took a few cuttings of the flower,” she said, moving away from him, “I’d like them to spread, start growing naturally throughout the forest.”

“You were here, and aware, during the Curse?” Robin pressed on, following her, “How? How did it pass you by?”

 …

“I asked nicely.”

“You knew the Evil Queen?”

“No, I never had the pleasure of meeting Regina,” she replied, “I knew her teacher. The man that _created_ the Dark Curse. He was the bow; she the arrow.”

“Alessa,” Robin said, “ _Who_ are you?”

She looked a little sad. “Once upon a time,” she murmured, “they called me the Enchantress. I was in the business of making monsters. With them, I birthed chaos. And none so much…as my Dark Ones.”

Robin paled, but he remained where he stood. “You _created_ the Dark One?”

“I am responsible for them, yes.”

Robin was quiet then. Alessa could almost see the thousand questions and concerns rolling about in his mind. She looked away from him, her eyes falling on Roland, who was still happily playing around the garden. Finally, Robin spoke. “Why did you ask to be left behind?”

“I’m retired,” Alessa replied with a smirk, “and I wanted to be left alone.”

“You’re immortal,” Robin said, “and near as my men and I figure, no one was _meant_ to be missed by the Curse. You wanted to be left here…alone…for eternity?”

“I’m not…precisely immortal. I just age very… _very_ slowly.”

“That’s not answer.”

Alessa continued to watch the boy, wondering if she had ever been so innocent.

“When…when you live as long as I have…you sometimes get tired. I was at odds with the whole of the world for so long, I felt that the only way I’d be able to stop it…was if the world left me behind. In truth, for all the power I once held, I hold none now. I lost the will for my magic, and very nearly for life itself.”

“What happened?”

“Someone that…that I loved, I lost.”

There was the slightest edge of darkness in her eyes and Robin took a step back without realizing that he had.

“She was murdered, poisoned,” Alessa said, “I took revenge on those that harmed her, but when it was done…I realized that it didn’t matter. She was still gone. And when I reached for my magic…it wasn’t there.” She took a shaking breath and finally turned her eyes back to Robin. “Love is poison to those like I. Or rather…it is the bane to the poison that we are. And it will either destroy us…or save us.”

“So,” Robin murmured, “you think it destroyed you?”

“I think it did a little of both,” Alessa said with the smallest of smiles, “When I had my Rose, and after she was gone, I realized that I no longer needed the chaos that had become my coin. I lost my magic, but I think that I found something that I had lost when I was child. Something I had forgotten about myself, an awareness of what I used to want. That’s the most frightening thing about me, like Regina, and my Rumplestiltskin. None of us intend to become villains.”

Robin considered her and then to Alessa’s surprise, he smiled. He glanced over to his son, “Time to go, Roland,” he called. The boy came running and Robin picked him up again. “Come with me,” he said to Alessa, “I’ll introduce you to the Merry Men and you can share our fire.”

Alessa blinked. “I don’t think…I mean, you and your men are welcome here as you like,” she said, stumbling over the words, “As I said, it’s safe here, but…I’m better here…alone.”

“As you said,” Robin reminded her, “the world has left us behind. It’s up to us to rebuild it. And I think you’ve been alone long enough.”

“After all I’ve told you—you would trust me around your people?”

“I see no reason not to,” Robin told her, his tone brooking no argument, “You delivered my son to me, safe and sound, and you’ve been honest about who you once were. I’m of the opinion that everyone deserves a second chance. Even the Enchantress.”

Alessa turned to stare at her little cottage. For the first time, it seemed small and lonely. She looked back to Robin and nodded. “Alright.”


	4. Interlude

 

 

 

 

Rumplestiltskin followed the haunting music and the boys that apparently could hear it as he did. Their path took them all deep into the forest. Strangely, the boys ahead never seemed to falter or tire, never hesitated in their pursuit of the music. What sort of spell these pipes were weaving, he had no idea, but it would end tonight.

Intent upon his prey, he never grasped that he was being followed. Of course, he had been shadowed for months now and never realized.

Rumplestiltskin came upon a clearing, with a great fire at the center. It was crowded with young boys in masks, clearly having the time of their young lives. Their own music intertwined with the pipes that still played. “Bae?” he called, his eyes searching, “Bae?”

He stopped a handful of the boys, trying to make out their faces beneath the masks. “Bae?”

Suddenly, the music of the pipes seemed to grow louder and Rumple’s eyes were drawn to the piper, his face hidden under the pied-cloak. He pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed the piper roughly. “Where is my son, piper?” he demanded, taking and snapping the pipes in half.

“Is that what they’re calling me?” the piper asked, throwing back his hood to reveal a young man’s face, “We both know who I really am.”

Rumple stumbled back a step, away from the piper.

“Been a long time, laddie. Glad you could make the show.”

In the shadows of the forest, Rumple’s tracker watched with great interest. She had seen fear in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes before, but not fear like this.

“Surprised to see me, Rumple? I don’t blame you, I’m a little surprised myself. Look who’s all grown up and become the Dark One! Good for you!”

“What are you doing here?” Rumple demanded.

“Well, it’s lonely in Neverland. The only friends I have are the children that visit in their dreams, but they can’t stay. The boys that I take back with me will.”

_Neverland? How curious._ Alessa did not know much about the fabled isle of dreams, but she had never heard of the island having a permanent resident.

“You’re here for my son.”

“I am.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than a magic pipe to take my son,” Rumple almost growled the words.

“The only thing magic about this pipe is that only certain boys can hear it. Boys who feel unloved. Boys who feel lost. I guess that’s why you can hear it, Rumple, isn’t it?”

“Don’t pretend to know me. You don’t. Not anymore.”

“Oh, I think I do. Beneath all that power you’re nothing more than an unloved, lonely, lost boy.” The piper stopped and smiled a little. “Hey, I like the sound of that. That’s what I’ll call my new group of friends! The Lost Boys! Has a ring, don’t you think?”

“You can call them whatever you like. Baelfire will not be part of it.”

“Oh, he’s already a part of it. The question is,” the piper said, standing closer to Rumple, “what are you willing to do to get him back?”

“I’m going to make you regret ever asking that question,” Rumple told him.

“Oh, I understand you’re upset,” the piper said, “Most parents’ worst fear is that their child will be taken away from them. But that’s not yours, is it, Rumple? No,” the piper pressed on, “You’re not afraid Baelfire will be taken from you. You’re afraid he’ll leave. After all, being abandoned is what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

Alessa was impressed by this little demon, but right then, she hated him.

“Everyone you’ve ever known has left, haven’t they? Like Bae’s mother, Milah. Not to mention your own father. Why should Baelfire be any different?”

“You’re wrong.”

But the words Rumple spoke were soft and Alessa heard just the slightest uncertainty.

“Am I?’ Well, let’s find out, shall we? You ask Baelfire if he wants to come to Neverland with me or stay here with you. If he wants to stay, I’ll leave and never return. Deal?”

“I don’t have to make any deals with you.”

“But why wouldn’t you? If you’re _so_ sure he’ll stay?”

Rumplestiltskin turned away from the piper, his eyes searching through the crowd.

“You don’t even recognize him, do you, Rumple?”

“Well, how could I when he’s wearing a mask?”

“He might be wearing a mask, but that’s not the reason.” The piper gestured and Rumple’s focus fell upon one of the boys. “Look at him,” the piper said, “Playing with other boys, out in the world. He’s happy, Rumple. That’s why you don’t recognize him.”

Rumple hurried forward and drew the boy away from the others, removing the boy’s mask. “Bae? Baelfire, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Baelfire replied, the anger as clear in his voice as it was on his face, “Why are you here?”

“I know you think I don’t care about you, son, but I do,” Rumple said, “and I’m here to prove it.”

“How?”

But Rumple hesitated.

The piper came closer. “Go ahead, Rumple.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at his son, opened his mouth to speak—and then stopped. He grabbed Baelfire and pulled him away from the piper.

“Papa? What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting you,” Rumplestiltskin told him. He waved his hand and a cloud of dark red smoke began to enveloping the pair.

“You’ve going to regret not taking my deal, Rumple!” the piper taunted as they disappeared. H laughed and turned back to his boys to join the dance. With a simple gesture, he repaired the broken pipe and took up the haunting tune once more.

A few minutes passed before he saw the figure standing at the edge of the trees. He stopped and raised a hand. “A latecomer, eh? Don’t be shy now, my boy. Come and join us.”

The figure strode forward, lower the hood of their cloak as they did. The piper paused, raising a brow.

“Oh—not a boy at all.”

“Not lost, either,” she said with a smirk.

“Well,” the piper said, “aren’t you lovely?”

“Aren’t you charming?”

“Did the music draw you?” the piper asked, gesturing with his pipes.

“No,” she said, “I wasn’t following the music.”

The piper considered her. “Who are you?”

“Who are _you_?” she asked in turn.

He smirked and gave a little bow, never taking his eyes from hers. “Peter Pan, at your service.” He straightened. “So, you were following Rumplestiltskin. Might I ask why? Are you looking for a way to be rid of him? Perhaps we could help each other.”

“Peter Pan,” she repeated, tilting her head to one side as she approached him, “A curious name for a curious demon. No, Peter, I’m afraid you’ve misjudged my motivations. That was a very interesting conversation you and my Dark One shared—but it didn’t tell me all I wanted to know.”

Pan suddenly felt a flash of pain at his cheek and he quickly stepped back from the woman. He lifted a hand to his cheek and felt the smallest trace of blood. There was a little knife in her hand—how had he not seen it? As he watched her, she waved her hand over the blade and the trace of blood upon it began to glow. She touched a fingertip to it and tasted the blood delicately. Pan winced at the sight, not knowing what it all meant.

“…He’s your son.”

“What did you say?”

“Rumple,” she said, putting the blade away, “my Dark One; he’s your _child_. How very _interesting_. I must admit, in the beginning, I didn’t expect him to be so very remarkable. Yet, he continues to surprise me.”

“Who are you?” Pan demanded. He felt he was on uncertain ground, which was a feeling he’d not had for decades.

She gave him an almost pitying gaze. “You know, if you’re going to survive as an immortal, little fledging, you’d best be able to recognize another.” She smirked, “Especially when they’ve a millennia under their belt.” She gave a little bow of her own and said, “You may call me the Enchantress.”

She saw that he recognized the title and gave him points for not looking too startled. “Enchantress, eh? What’s your real name?”

She laughed lightly at that. “As though ‘Peter Pan’ was _your_ true name.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to leave and never return.”

“I’m afraid that deal was exclusive to Rumplestiltskin.”

“I’m not interested in a deal with you, little demon,” she told him, “You _will_ leave. You will take your boys and fly away back home to Neverland. You will leave Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire alone.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact,” Alessa said with a shrug, “my Dark One has marvelous potential—and I’ll not see it wasted on a petty little demon such as yourself.”

“Best tread carefully, _Enchantress_ ,” Pan warned, “A ‘fledgling immortal’ I may be, but I’ve protection and power you’ve likely never seen. You can’t kill me.”

Again, she laughed. “Oh, you sweet, simple child,” she said, “I don’t have to _kill_ you to remove you from the game.”

Pan smirked. “You like games?”

“I adore them,” she replied, “but you’re young yet for _mine_. You come and see me when you’ve broken a couple of centuries—should you live so long.”

“Try me now,” Pan dared, “I might surprise you.”

“Little surprises me now, unfortunately,” she said dismissively, “That’s why I like our Rumple so.” Her laughing air vanished completely and she was suddenly inches away from Pan. “Heed me, Peter Pan,” she all but whispered, “You will leave this world and Rumplestiltskin be. He may be your son—but he belongs to _me_ now.”

She saw the faint flicker of fear in his eyes, but still he smiled. “Ah well,” he said, “I was bored of this world anyhow.”

“Of course,” Alessa said, smiling again, “It’s been delightful meeting you, Peter Pan. Best of luck, my fledgling immortal. You _will_ need it.”


	5. The Merry Men

 

It was the oddest thing, to Alessa, to find that she _liked_ Robin and his band. Her initial impression of his kindness seemed correct, and he doted on his son. He explained, as they approached the camp, the loss of the boy’s mother some years ago. She could hear the grief that still clouded his voice, and felt a small sense of kinship in the emotion they shared.

The band themselves were, to begin with, as wary of her as she was of them, but with Robin’s assurance, they accepted her. It was a strange sensation, after centuries of crafting such a great and terrible reputation. Acceptance, even tinged with wariness, was not something that she knew well. Even her Dark Ones never truly gave her that.

Well, perhaps Rumplestiltskin, but he had been the exception to many things.

Sitting around the fire as the sun set, Alessa watched Robin with his son. The boy didn’t have the best grasp of language yet, but that didn’t stop him from telling his father story after story, or arguing about what he would eat from his dinner. Robin seemed delighted by every word that his child uttered, and he firmly insisted that, yes, Roland _would_ eat the onions, under protest or no.

In a quiet moment, watching them, Alessa had a flash of memory—precious and sharp-edged—of her own father.

It was Friar Tuck who caught her staring so blankly into the fire. He moved to sit beside her, and pulled her out of her reverie quite effectively with questions about the Ogres’ Bane. It turned out that the Friar was something of an amateur botanist. Alessa was pleased to pass along a cutting of the flower, as well as a packet of seeds, to him, trusting that he would have them growing wherever the band ended up next.

A man named Alan then cautiously broached the subject of Alessa’s long years. It seemed to spark the curiosity of the rest and soon Alessa was answering questions that pulled upon her long life: How had the forest changed over the centuries? How many kingdoms had she seen rise and then fall? Did she recall any of the old kings?

Before any of them had realized, the night was half over, and Alessa had almost talked herself hoarse.

Roland had fallen asleep on Little John’s lap, and Robin, with practiced skill, lifted him up without waking the child.

Alessa stood, brushing out her skirt in an absent gesture. “I should get home,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“If you insist,” Robin replied softly, “I ought to get him into his bed, anyhow. You’ll come back?”

“If you insist,” Alessa repeated.

“It was good to meet you,” Friar Tuck said, coming to her side.

“It was good to meet you too,” she replied. To her own surprised, she lifted a gentle hand to touch Roland’s sleep-tousled curls. “Thank you, little one,” she murmured.

 

 

 

 

Alessa began to build new habits, with the band remaining close. After a couple of weeks, it was no longer a surprise to see Roland in her garden, though he no longer came alone. She began to teach a few of the men a number of herbal concoctions they would find useful.

Robin brought a few of them to her himself, each with sheepish expressions and the telltale signs of stinging ivy rash on their arms and faces. Alessa had to laugh and she almost cheerfully scolded them, saying that men of the woods should recognize the plant better.

After that, the Friar was a regular visitor, and Alessa taught him the more complicated balms and tinctures of healing. They didn’t take magic, she explained, just knowledge and a steady hand.

The forest had become chilled as winter set in properly, though snow rarely fell around Alessa’s cottage. When Robin questioned it, Alessa confessed that she had long ago spelled the land against it. “I don’t like snow,” she told him, over a cup of tea, “It may look pretty, but snow is terribly messy, and I never liked what it did to my gardens.”

“So, you’ve always been a gardener of sorts?” Robin asked, “That wasn’t something you picked up to pass the time during the Curse?”

“Not at all,” Alessa said with a shake of her head, “My first teacher…she was a proper witch before she discovered the deeper magics. She always told me that it wasn’t appropriate to lose touch with our roots. Her early lessons have served me well since I lost my magic.”

“Think she’d approve of your life now?”

“Oh, stars, no.”

Robin blinked. “Really?”

Alessa smirked, an old expression, and Robin suppressed a shiver. The odd tilt of her head had suddenly reminded him of Rumplestiltskin.

“I may have once possessed a fearsome reputation, Robin, but trust me when I say that I had nothing, _nothing_ , on my former mistress.”

“Who was she?”

Alessa hesitated, clutching her teacup. “…Safer not to speak the name,” she said at last, “She is locked away, bound by strong magics, but I’d rather not tempt fate.”

“You speak as though she were a demon.”

“Not a bad word to use,” Alessa murmured, “Make no mistake, I did love her, but even I know that the world is safer with her bound. I told you before, that chaos was my coin. For her, it was blood and bone. The world has not seen her like since. She didn’t bother with petty things like vengeance or greed. She simply…was.”

“She sounds almost like a force of nature.”

“In a way. Her goals were terribly simple. To turn the world as a whole to darkness. Nothing would have stopped her. Not even love.”

“Did she feel love?”

“Oh, yes,” Alessa replied, “She was, for all her darkness, human.” She tilted her head and cautiously smiled. “You are remarkably easy to talk to, you know that? I haven’t spoken of her in centuries, not even to my Dark Ones.”

“I suppose I just have one of those faces,” Robin stated with a smile of his own.

“I suppose so,” Alessa said, “Now, you didn’t come to hear me prattle on about my past.”

“Considering your past, it’s never a dull story,” Robin said, “but no, I wanted to come and let you know that we’ll be having visitors sometime tomorrow. An old friend of mine, he’s a ship’s captain; he’ll be bringing in supplies to trade. When time started to move for us again, he took his crew and his ship to explore, much like us. Only we took the land, he took the sea.”

“A friend of the prince of thieves,” Alessa said, “I don’t suppose your friend was a smuggler?”

“ _Well_ …”

“You want me to come by and meet him, then?”

“I would,” Robin said, “I also thought you might be interested in what he’s bringing, goods scavenged from the abandoned coast. Could be interesting.”

“It could indeed,” Alessa agreed, “Alright, I’ll come by.”

 

 

 

 

 

True to her word, Alessa left her cottage the next morning to venture into Robin’s camp. The camp was bustling with activity. There were half a dozen unfamiliar faces with three large carts of goods. Alessa stood to the side, watching a moment while the Merry Men helped the strangers unload.

It was one of those strangers that noticed her first, a woman who stood on one of the carts. Her long red hair was pulled back from her face, which was well-freckled, and her eyes were bright with a laugh. She blinked at Alessa and the nudged the arm of the dark-haired man beside her. He glanced over as well. “Hey, Locksley,” he called to Robin, “Would that be the friend you mentioned?”

Robin smiled and came to Alessa’s side. “That she is,” he said, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, “You’re certainly busy.”

“Well, it was a good and fruitful voyage,” the dark-haired man said as he and the woman hopped down from the cart.

Robin clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Ross, Reyn, this is Alessa. Alessa, meet Captain Rosaire Vampa, and his first mate, Reyn.”

The man held out his hand, but although Alessa took it, her eyes were on the woman. “Reyn. Reynard, isn’t it?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell, she’s an immortal.” She punched Robin’s in the shoulder with a grin. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Ow!” Robin rubbed his shoulder. “Does it matter? How did you even know?”

“Cause she recognized me, you dolt. Most, even some immortals, don’t see past the pretty face,” she said, looking to Alessa again.

“It is a pretty face,” Alessa said, “How long have you been wearing it?”

“Oh, half a century now,” Reyn said, “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

“Wait,” Robin said, “What? Ross?”

The captain laughed heartily at his old friend. “I suppose I never mentioned, did I?”

Robin stared at Reyn. “You’re an immortal?”

“Only a minor one, really,” Reyn replied, fluttering her eyelashes.

“She’s a fox spirit,” Alessa said, “A shapeshifter.”

“You have magic?” Robin asked.

“A little trickster magic, is all,” Reyn said, “Just enough to come in handy now and then.”

“I hope I haven’t overstepped,” Alessa said, frowning slightly.

“Oh, no,” Reyn said, waving her hand, “It’s hardly a secret.”

“Your reputation preceded you,” Alessa told her, “Though, I’d heard you were captured and bound some years ago.”

“I was,” Reyn told her. She hooked her arm through Ross’s, “By this one’s grandpa, actually. Gods know where he learned the old incantations, but I’ve been something of a familial spirit of fortune for three generations now.”

“You don’t sound like you mind,” Alessa said, raising a brow.

“Well, it hardly matters now,” Reyn replied, “Ross did away with the bonds when his father passed me to him.”

“Felt too much like slavery to me,” Ross interjected.

Reyn smiled at him, “But no, I suppose I didn’t mind. Luigi and his kin were exceedingly entertaining. Now, I have to admit, _your_ reputation doesn’t precede you.”

“That’s because I didn’t spread my name around,” Alessa admitted. She glanced at Robin before continuing, “I used to be called the Enchantress.”

“Oh,” Reyn murmured, “never mind.”

“The _Enchantress_?” Ross repeated, “You’re joking.”

“Hardly worth the laugh, to be honest,” Alessa said, with an arched look in his direction.

“My grandfather told me a story about you,” Ross told her, “A friend of his once sought you out, didn’t get the answer he expected.”

“Oh? What was his name?”

“Dantes.”

Alessa smiled softly. “I remember him,” she murmured, “He did come to me, seeking me out in my role of the Demon of Vengeance. I told him that he didn’t need me. He had the means to his vengeance already.”

“You still helped him,” Ross said.

“I gave him a boat,” Alessa replied, “He managed the rest on his own. How’d be turn out?”

“All in all? Not too bad,” Ross said, “It all took quite the toll on him, from what I’m told.”

“Vengeance has a way of doing that,” Alessa said.

“I have to admit, I’m curious,” Ross said, “What brought the Enchantress all the way out here?”

“It’s a very long story,” she warned him.

“I’d still like to hear it sometime,” he replied.

Alessa looked at him, saw a good measure of humor and kindness in his dark eyes. She could see already why he and Robin were friends; they were much alike. She felt a sudden surge of fear. It struck her and she was surprised by it, but knew at once the cause. It was a dangerous business, having friends so kind. How much it would hurt to lose them. She had learned that lesson long ago. Had her isolation weakened her so much?

Robin saw her face pale and he touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. She brushed his hand away and looked to Ross. “I’ll tell you—sometime,” she said, “But I don’t think you’ll look at me so kindly after I do. I did _earn_ my reputation, after all. And the world never knew the half of it.”

“You might be surprised,” Ross said, his voice gentler. He and Reyn shared a look.

“Come on,” Reyn said suddenly, reaching out to take Robin’s hand, “These goods won’t unload themselves, you know. Then we can break out the drinks and have a night of fun.”


	6. Interlude

 

 

He stood in the clearing of the forest, not far from where he had slain the previous Dark One, taking the power for himself.

“Reul Ghorm! Show yourself!”

Deep in the shadows, another watched.

When the Blue Fairy appeared, Rumple pointed his dagger at her, accusingly. “How do I follow him?”

“You had the way,” she told him, “You didn’t take it! And there are no more magic beans.”

“That’s a lie,” Rumple accused.

“We don’t do that.”

“A lie!”

“You will never make it to that world,” Blue told him, her voice scathing.

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Rumple replied, “There must be other paths. A realm-jumper?”

“No.”

“A time-turner?”

“No.”

“A Mage?”

“There is no—”

“A curse!”

“—No!”

Oh, that hesitation that told all. Even their unknown watcher heard the truth of it.

“Ah, so it is a curse?”

“Of course, you would think of a curse instead of a blessing. Your magic is limited by its own rotten core, Rumplestiltskin.”

 In the shadows, their watcher bristled, but did not move.

“Anyway, it can’t be done. Not without a great price.”

“I’ve already paid a great price,” Rumple reminded her.

“So, you’d be willing to sacrifice this world for the next?” she asked him, “Because that is how great the price is.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“Well, then I’ll comfort myself knowing that such a curse is beyond your abilities.”

“Oh, for now,” Rumple said, “but I’ve got all the time in the world. I will do nothing else,” he swore, “I will _love_ nothing else. I will find a way. You took my son,” he told her, “but I will get him back!”

“I didn’t take your son,” Blue said disparagingly.

“You took my son! But I will get him back!”

“ _You_ drove him away.”

The watcher smiled at the deep and dark tone of the fairy’s voice. She thought that she was the only one who could bring that out in dear Blue. Rumplestiltskin lashed out at the fairy, until she flew away from his reach.

“I will find him!” Rumple cried out, “I will find him!”

He stopped, breathed.

“ _I will find him._ ”

He stood there in the dark, overcome by rage, by grief, by guilt, his dagger clutched tightly in his hand. He lifted his eyes to the forest around, and his gaze caught the flash of something bright deep in the trees. Scowling and riding still upon his boiling blood, he surged forward.

Someone had been watching. They couldn’t be allowed to get away, to live.

A cloaked figure ran through the trees ahead of him, but it was mere moments before he reached them. He grabbed their arm, twisting them ‘round. But the figure fought his hold, tangled his balance, and they both fell to the forest floor.

Rumple recovered quickly, pressing his dagger to the figure’s throat. With his other hand, he threw back their hood to reveal their face. He paused at the sight of a seemingly young woman, fair and gold and lovely. He was certain that she wasn’t from the village; he’d have recognized this face.

“Got you,” he murmured.

She smiled up at him. “Do you?”

In an instant, she had vanished—and so had his dagger. Rumple blinked, and scrambled up, panic clutching at his throat.

“This is a great deal of power,” the woman said.

Rumple spun around to see her a few feet away. She was still smiling, turning his dagger to and fro in her hands.

“You really should be more careful with it.”

Rumple’s eyes followed the dagger in her hands.

“Take a breath, Rumplestiltskin,” the woman told him, plainly entertained by his panic, “blue is not a good color on you.”

Rumple breathed deeply, tearing his eyes from the dagger and meeting hers. “What are you?”

She seemed amused by the question. “Older than you.”

“What else?”

“Smarter than you,” she said as she began to circle him.

“Are you?” he pressed, falling into an opposing circular path.

“Yes,” she said, “But I’ve more experience. You have potential.” She considered him carefully as they circled each other. “Yes,” she said again, “you have _great_ potential, Rumplestiltskin, for all that you were a beggar’s choice.”

He stopped in his tracks, staring at her. Somehow, this woman knew about Zoso and his deception. She’d been watching him all this time. A thousand questions came to him then, but only one reached his lips, “ _Who_ are you?”

“Ah, I like that question better,” she said, “Much more polite. My name is Alessa—but I’ve had many other names too.”

“Such as?”

“Once upon a time,” she said, “I was called the Enchantress.”

“Enchantress,” Rumple murmured, “the Mother of Monsters.”

“And the Demon of Retribution,” she added, “Great and terrible names—and meaningless.” She sighed, crossing her arms.

Rumple kept his eye upon the dagger. If she would only drop her guard for a moment—oh, he didn’t want to end up like Zoso.

“Meaningless, you said,” he prompted, “why?”

“Name one of my monsters.”

“Ah.” Rumple turned his mind back to his childhood and the darker of the nursery tales the spinsters had spun for him. “The Lindworm!” he said with a snap of his fingers, “That was said to have been yours. And the Nokku.”

“Terrible beasts,” Alessa accepted, “but mindless, for all of their beautiful rage. And too quickly defeated. The chaos they inspired was…minimal. Songs for simpering heroes in the end.”

“But your vengeances,” Rumple said, moving just slightly closer to her and his dagger, “you brought down kingdoms in your time.”

“No, I gave others the means to bring those kingdoms down,” Alessa told him, “the vengeances were not mine. I was just the broker.” She smiled, almost sadly. “Hardly a legacy.”

“You seek a legacy?’ He stopped suddenly and pointed an accusing finger. “That’s what you meant about ‘potential’! You want me to be your next monster!”

“Oh, Rumple,” she sighed, “you misunderstand.” She held up the dagger, the dim moonlight reflecting off of his name. “You already _are_.” Alessa held out the dagger, offering. “You made yourself my monster.”

Slowly, Rumple reached out, taking the dagger back. He looked down at it. “The Dark Ones,” he murmured, “They—we—are your doing?”

“Yes,” she said, “you are mine. As Zoso was, and Merkel before him. For over a thousand years, I have watched and guided you all.”

“Guided?” Rumple repeated, “Wha—where have you been then? Where was my guidance, oh great Enchantress?”

“You didn’t need me,” Alessa told him, “You had Baelfire.”

“What do you know of my son?” he demanded.

“I know that you love him,” Alessa said simply, “and with him there was the chance, however small, that you would find a way to break the curse. It would have been a good ending, I think, to have the power of the Dark One ended for the love of a child.” Her voice was soft then, almost wistful.

“But now my son is gone,” Rumple said.

“He is lost,” Alessa said, “He can be found again. You heard our Blue Star.”

“You know her,” Rumple realized.

“Oh yes,” Alessa said, smirking, “she and I have been bitterly entwined for centuries.”

Rumple considered her. “She was going to send us both away. Would you have allowed it?”

“Yes,” she replied, “as I said, it would have been a good ending. But I do have to wonder,” she added, glancing off into the shadows of the forest, “…if that is what she truly intended to do.”

“What else then?” Rumple asked, “This?” He gestured to the empty forest around. “For me to be alone, my son trapped in a strange world?”

“Your son is indeed trapped in a strange world,” Alessa said slowly, “and here you are. Willing to do _anything_ to find him. You haven’t learned the lesson that Zoso taught you. How useful a tool that a desperate soul makes. And as so with all immortals, the Reul Ghorm plays a long game, Rumplestiltskin.”

…

“She almost _dared_ me,” Rumple said softly, “to find the curse.”

“Exactly,” Alessa said, “But what she would gain from such a curse, I have no idea.”

“But how would she know I would fail to follow Bae? Has she been watching me as you have?”

“Possibly,” Alessa said, “but it’s more likely that she had a vision concerning you, your son, and this supposed curse.”

“Vision?”

“She sees the future, our dear Blue. Many fairies can, though not all.”

“The future?”

“Rumplestiltskin?”

“May I ask a boon of you?’ he asked her suddenly.

“You may ask anything of me,” Alessa told him, smiling now.

“Years ago, before Baelfire was born, I met a seer. I believe…that her predictions have now come true. I wish to find her.”

“Describe her.”

“She was child when I saw her, nearly fifteen years ago,” Rumple said, “Red hair, stitching over where her eyes should have been…bright blue eyes in the palms of her hand.”

“I know of her,” Alessa said incredulously, “she has an amazing gift, but the terrible burden of it as well. Well,” she said, clapping her hands together, “shall I take you to her? Or would you prefer a map to make the journey yourself?”

“I’ll take the map,” Rumple said, “if you don’t mind, of course.”

“Of course,” Alessa said. She snapped her fingers and a roll of parchment appeared in her hand. She offered it to him. “I will wait for your return,” she almost warned him, “We have much to discuss.”

“Yes,” Rumple said, taking the map, “I believe you are right.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

As she had promised, she waited, making herself quite comfortable in his home. He had done much since he gained his powers to improve upon it. Alessa was curious at the urge he’d followed to remain in it, though. Why stay in the village at all? Was it simply years of habit, fear still of the unknown?

There was a great clatter outside the door, making her jump. Rumplestiltskin all but fell through the doorway, clutching at his head and cursing. Alessa was by his side at once.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He shied away from her touch, falling against the wall.

Alessa quickly shut the door and then studied him intently. She blinked.

“Empty Night, Rumplestiltskin, what have you done to yourself?”

“Took…took the…seer’s power,” he gasped, “Gods, I can’t make it stop!”

“I can help.”

“How?”

“Come,” she said, offering a hand.

Rumple glared at her through slitted eyes. But he took her hand, nearly whimpering with the pain in his head. Alessa helped him over to the fireplace and laid him in the nearby bed. She drew the curtains around it and dimmed the fire as much as she could without extinguishing it.

“Lie still,” she ordered, “and close your eyes.”

Rumple complied gladly. Even the low light of the fire was painful.

Alessa disappeared for a few minutes outside and Rumple briefly wondered if she had left him there to die, but before the thought really formed, she was back. She went to the fire and seemed to be mixing something together. He heard her get down his tea kettle and pondered if he would be able to trust her enough to drink anything she gave him.

The tea took long, for the fire was so low.

“So,” Alessa said, speaking again at last, “you took Eura’s power. I suppose she told you to.”

“Eura?”

“Did you think she was just called ‘the seer’?” Alessa asked him, smirking, “She was a person, after all.”

“Human?” Rumple queried, amazed.

“Mostly,” she replied, checking the tea’s progress, “To foretell the future is a gift often given to deserving folk from the fairies, and it often continues along the family line. But Eura was one of the rare ones. She was actually a _descendant_ of a fairy. It was a great-grandmother, I think.”

“She was a _fairy_?”

“Only a little bit of one,” Alessa corrected, “Fairy blood can be…unpredictable,” she added, soundly oddly amused. “Of course, the fairies are _highly_ discouraged from…interbreeding with mortal folk.”

Rumple felt her move closer and attempted to open his eyes. She had doused the fire, making it easier.

Alessa sat on the edge of the bed. “Drink,” she said, putting a cup to his lips. He swallowed the bitter tea, making a face. Alessa smiled to see it. When he had drunk the lot down, she set the cup aside. “Close your eyes again,” she said. He did so. Alessa put kind hands of either side of his head, gently rubbing his temples in a circular motion. “You need focus,” she told him softly.

“I can’t,” Rumple argued, “there’s too much to focus on.”

“Not on what you’re seeing. If you want it to stop, you have to pull your mind from it. Tell me, did Eura tell you anything useful before offering up her burden?”

“Yes,” Rumple said.

“Tell me.”

“She told me…that I would find my son.”

“Never had a doubt there,” Alessa murmured, “You strike me as rather determined, after all. Did she say how?”

“As the Blue Fairy said. A curse, powerful enough to rip everyone from this land.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“She also told me that I wouldn’t be the one to cast the curse.”

“That makes sense,” she said, “The more powerful a curse, the greater the price. It wouldn’t do you any good to cast the curse to find your son if it kills you before you can.”

“Hmph.”

Rumple opened his eyes carefully and Alessa pulled away. “Better?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“It will still happen on occasion, until you can learn to guide the visions,” Alessa warned him, “But it can be dealt with, as you see.”

“…How do you know all of this?”

Alessa smiled again, but it was a bitter, almost poisonous, expression. “Such ‘gifts’…run in _my_ family, you could say,” she said, “I always considered myself rather lucky that I did not inherit it.”

“Thank you,” Rumple said, surprising her.

The bitterness melted away and she smiled truly. “You are welcome.” She stood and started to close the curtains again. “You should rest. I’ll return in the morning. When you are ready, just call for me, and we’ll begin your lessons.”

“What are you going to teach me?”

“Anything you want,” Alessa replied, “Any knowledge I have is yours.”

“…Can you teach how to use a sword?”

Alessa blinked at him. “Of course,” she said, amused by him again, “as I said—anything you like. Sleep now, Rumple.”

 

 


	7. Ross & Reyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies once more for disappearing like I did. I have a few new chapters for you now. :)

 

As the sun set, Alessa settled herself into the nook of a tree trunk, watching the camp. The bustle and energy she had seen that morning had not abated, though their focus had turned from work to play. The captain’s crew had brought with them quite the feast, including drink. Alessa listened quietly while they told the Merry Men stories of what they had seen along the abandoned coast.

“The ogres are back in full force,” Ross said at one point, “We had to be very careful when we went ashore. I’ve never seen them in such numbers.”

“They had quite the campaign near Avonlea some years back,” Robin said, “They likely would have overrun the kingdom if not for the Dark One’s interference.”

“What brought the Dark One to such a gesture?” Reyn asked.

“What usually does.”

They turned to look at Alessa, who smiled.

“A deal.”

“Did you similar dealings with the Dark One?” Ross asked.

Robin coughed, hiding a laugh.

“Of a sort,” Alessa said slowly, “Robin and his men already know, so I suppose you ought to. The Dark One, and his many predecessors, were mine.”

Ross stared at her for a long moment. “You…you _created_ them?”

“An oversimplification, surely, but yes,” Alessa replied.

“Huh.” Ross took a deep swallow from his cup. “Never would have thought it. I’d always assumed that they had been around forever.”

“Not quite forever,” Alessa said, “just a very, very long time.”

“How long exactly?” Ross asked, “Did you recall?”

Alessa was quiet, but Ross didn’t press.

“Um…fourteen-hundred years,” she said at last, “give or take a decade.”

“One _thousand_ and _four hundred_ years?”

“Yes. Somewhere in that general area, anyway. I am counting these twenty-eight years under the Curse, of course.”

Reyn looked highly amused. Ross was staring at her again. Alessa waited, half of her ready to run.

“Well,” he said, after another deep drink, “Milady, allow me to say—the years have been kind to you.”

Alessa burst out with delighted laughter. That was not the answer she had expected in the least. “In a manner of speaking, anyway,” she said, “Thank you, sir.”

“So,” Ross said, “You were saying? About a deal?”

“Oh, yes,” Alessa said, “Rumple trafficked in them. They were near his favorite thing. Sir Maurice sent for him and Rumple stopped the ogres in their tracks.”

“What was the deal though?”

“From what I understand, Maurice’s daughter,” she said, “She was to be his servant.”

“But why?” Robin asked, “I’ve always wondered _why_ he would demand _her_ as his price?”

“Because she was most precious to her father,” Alessa explained, “and…he’d been alone for a very long time. I think he wanted the company.”

“Didn’t he have you?” Ross asked.

“No. No, he didn’t. There was a…quarrel between us. In truth, we’d parted company decades before. He had nothing more to learn from me and…well. This is harder to explain,” she said, leaning forward, “When a pupil of dark magic reaches a certain point…they are inevitably drawn to…outdo their teacher. Usually, they…well, attempt to be rid of them. Permanently.”

“He tried to _kill_ you?” Robin asked, unbelieving.

“Well, yes,” Alessa said, hesitantly, “Nature of the beast, really. When we’ve learned all we can, our teachers become our competition, in a way. A threat. And matters between Rumplestiltskin and I were even _more_ complicated since we—”

Alessa stopped herself suddenly, falling silent. She put a hand over her lips to keep herself that way.

Reyn blinked and then gasped. She laughed and clapped her hands together. The men looked at her in confusion and Alessa gave her a warning glance.

“Don’t say it,” she said quickly to the fox.

Reyn covered her mouth, still giggling like a child, but she nodded her head. She scrambled up and moved to sit beside Alessa, laying her head on her shoulder and offering her cup. Alessa felt a small giggle of her own bubbling to her lips and she kept it down by taking a drink of Reyn’s whiskey.

“Is someone going to explain?” Robin asked.

“Nope,” Reyn replied swiftly.

But Ross was smiling just slightly and Alessa knew that he had figured out what she had stopped herself from saying. He lifted his cup in a mock toast to the women and winked.

Robin sighed and shrugged, turning back to Ross. “So, tell me more about the coast,” he said.

“Gladly,” Ross replied, “It was almost haunting to see the world so empty. The forest has reclaimed most of the villages we saw.”

“So,” Reyn whispered to Alessa as Ross spoke, “Tell me, from one immortal to another, why are you all the way out here?”

“In truth? I was tired. I sought solitude.”

“I have to tell you, I’m a little confused,” Reyn admitted, “From your reputation I gathered that you were of great power—but we’ve seen not a trace of it.”

“My power was lost to me.”

“Was it the Curse?”

“No, it happened some thirty years before that.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“Less so than I expected,” Alessa admitted, “I found that I like living quietly.”

“Ah. Would never work for me,” Reyn said, “The quiet life, I mean. There’s just too much to do and see.”

“Is that why you stick with Ross?” Alessa asked, “Even though you are no longer bound?”

“Sort of,” Reyn said, “but the truth of the matter is, I’m fond of him. I’ve known him since he was naught but a twinkle in his parents’ eyes. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“And are you…?”

Reyn laughed at that. “Gods no,” she said, “I love him, no doubt on that, but he don’t have the right parts to interest me.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, it don’t seem to matter what form I wear, my inclinations remain the same,” Reyn explained, “Though, it takes a rare woman to get my attention and keep it long.” She nudged Alessa’s shoulder and lowered her voice more. “How about you then? You for the boys?”

“I’ve never had a preference,” Alessa confessed, “Considering how long I’ve lived, I haven’t had many lovers at all, but when I’ve loved, it didn’t seem to matter whether they were men or women. Though,” she added, ponderingly, “looking back, it’d be fair to say I’ve a fondness for lanky brunettes.”

“Oh, aye,” Reyn agreed, “I’m partial to dark hair myself, and especially dark eyes. They’ve always seem so much deeper to me. No offence,” she added, thinking to Alessa’s pale hair and eyes, “You are lovely.”

“You too,” Alessa said, laughingly, “I meant what I said about that pretty face. But no…my heart is done, I think.”

“Spoken like someone who’s loved deep,” Reyn murmured.

“I did. And lost her. T’was the loss of her, I think, that took my will for magic.”

“Heavy thing,” Reyn said, “I’ve done my best to avoid it, myself, and have when it comes to that kind of love. But failed, spectacularly, when it comes to other kinds.” She looked to where Ross sat and sighed. “Gods help me, but I’d die for the lad, if it came to it. He’s family. I’d never had family ‘fore him.”

“I had family once,” Alessa murmured, “It’s a terrible thing to lose.”

“We all have our losses and their scars,” Reyn said, resting her head on Alessa’s shoulder again, “You seem to have done alright, considering. Though, I have to admit, I haven’t known many immortals with your kind of years.”

“Nor have I,” Alessa said, “save for a few fairies, of course. I know that the Blue fairy has at least twice my years.”

“I hardly think they count,” Reyn muttered, “Interfering little busybodies that they are.”

Alessa smiled. “I like you.”

“I like you too.” Reyn’s eyes lit up when she heard the music start. She immediately hopped up to her feet. “About time,” she called to those with the instruments. She drained her cup and tossed it aside. “Come on,” she said to Alessa, “come and dance.”

Alessa shook her head, but she smiled, “You go on.”

Reyn threw up her hands in mock disgust and leapt away towards the fire and the others who had gotten up to dance. Alessa sat back and watched, hopelessly entertained. One of the other women on Ross’s crew had picked up little Roland so he could join in on the dance, and even Friar Tuck had left his cups to join.

Like Reyn, Ross swiftly drained his cup and stood, but he didn’t move towards the dance. Alessa watched him with a careful eye as he approached. He knelt in front of her and smiled, tilting his head. “What do you say, Enchantress?” he asked, offering a hand.

It was strange to hear her old name spoken with such gaiety. He almost teased her with it. She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Somehow I get the feeling you won’t be as easily swayed as your first mate.”

“You would be correct, milady.”

“I’ll still say no.”

“Milady,” Ross said, his voice oddly gentle, “between your words and Robin’s, I gather that you’ve been alone for a long time. When was the last time you let yourself have a little silly fun?”

Alessa frowned, pensive. “To be fair, my idea of fun might not…translate well.”

“Even still.”

She sighed, and very nearly rolled her eyes. But still, she had no answer. The realization bothered her more she thought it should have. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“All the more reason to do so now,” Ross told her.

Alessa hesitated a moment more and then, not saying a word, placed her hand in Ross’s and let him pull her to her feet. Ross grinned down at her and led her over towards the fire. They joined in the dance, linking their arms with the others in a great circle.

Alessa felt ridiculous, trying to keep in step with everyone else—and she found that she loved the feeling. She laughed and danced as she hadn’t done since she was a child. Since before she had turned her back on the last of her family, such as it was. Before meeting her teacher. When she had been young. When she had wanted to be a hero.

Dancing arm in arm with the Merry Men and Ross’s crew, Alessa had a flash of memory of a man. Thinking of him, she realized how much Ross reminded her of him. It was strange that she remembered him so fondly, considering that the turn she had taken could be traced back to her meeting him.

_I wonder what became of him. I never even took the chance to say goodbye before the Curse hit. I hope you are well, wherever you are. Emrys._

 

 

 

Ross and his crew remained with the Merry Men for several days, taking their ease. Alessa was introduced to most of them, including their medic. Like Friar Tuck, Mireille was eager to learn whatever Alessa could teach. She was very young, only seventeen, dark of skin and hair, and seemed far too sweet to be a member of a smuggler’s crew.

Reyn, who had become a rather constant companion to Alessa, explained that Ross had taken the girl in shortly before the Curse hit, rescuing her from a very cruel father. In a child’s contradictory way, the girl was fixed to be a healer, rather than an abuser like her parent.

“She’s not the only one of the crew like that,” Reyn said, “Ross has a habit of wanting to help people. It’s gotten us into trouble on more than one occasion.”

“I’d imagine,” Alessa replied, “From all that I’ve seen, a generous heart is quite the burden.”

When the time came for the crew to pack up and leave, Alessa found herself a little saddened by the news. She stood with Robin and the rest of the Merry men to bid them farewell.

Reyn hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “We’ll see you again,” the fox promised.

Ross clasped Robin’s arm with a smile. “So, think you’ll still be here next month?”

“I think so,” Robin replied, with a glance at Alessa, “This place has been quite the pleasant respite.”

“Good,” Ross said, “Well, here’s hoping our next venture out will be as prosperous as the first.”

Clearing his throat, he looked to Alessa, holding out his hand. Alessa took it and wasn’t surprised when the captain turned her hand and placed a kiss upon it. She smiled at him, having grown used to his rather flirtatious nature. He shared her smile when he lifted his head.

“Is there anything you’d require, milady?” he asked, still holding her hand, “Anything we should watch for on our journey? We do owe you a debt, for sharing your Ogres’ Bane, after all.”

“Your debt will be discharged when you successfully spread the flowers,” Alessa assured him, “and I want for nothing here.”

“Nothing at all?”

Alessa did not reply, but she raised a brow at the suggestive tone of his question.

Ross laughed and let go of her hand. “I’m glad to have met you, Alessa.”

“And I you,” she replied, with perfect honesty.

“Until next month, then,” he said, lifting his hand in a partial salute before he turned away.

“Safe travels,” Alessa called, and she wished him and his crew well.

 


	8. Interlude

Rumplestiltskin stepped into the little room that served as his home and workshop. He went to the small table there and tossed the pirate’s hand down upon it carelessly. He leaned against the table, smiling a little at the portrait of his son’s face there.

_Soon, Bae. I will see you soon._

Slowly, he uncurled the fingers of the severed hand to reveal the magic bean—only there was no bean. Rumple stared at the empty palm. “No,” he whispered.

He could not believe his eyes. He had been so _close_!

“He tricked me!” he spat, pushing the table over and scattering its contents over the little room’s floor. He turned, ready to search out the pirate who had stolen his chance.

“It’s too late.”

Rumple stopped and turned to see his teacher sitting in a chair at the edge of the wreckage. She wore a deep and soft rose dress, her golden hair pinned at one side with a butterfly comb. As always, she was lovely—and irritating.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“You missed your lesson yesterday,” she reminded him, “I was quite prepared to scold you—but I caught the latter half of your encounter with Killian Jones…and your wife—and I decided it was a reasonable excuse to miss a lesson after all. I see our swordplay lessons have served you well.”

“Spying on me again?” Rumple sneered.

“Well, how else to learn? You hardly speak to me,” she replied with a smirk, “It’s enough to wound a girl’s heart.”

“You don’t have a heart.”

“How terribly harsh,” she said, “Have I not helped you?”

“Go away.”

“No,” Alessa said, her playful manner vanishing in a flash. Rumple felt a chill echo down his spine at the cold in her eyes. “There is a lesson here, after all, my monster, and as usual, you’ve missed it.”

“I have to find Jones.”

“As I already said, it’s too late,” she said, “He’s gone, used the bean.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I only saw the telltale whirlpool and then the ship was gone.”

Rumple cursed vividly, snatching up and throwing a vase at the wall. Alessa watched the ceramic shatter and then stood. Rumple froze where he stood, not looking at her.

“I’ve given warnings of that temper,” Alessa said slowly, “and how it has undone more of my Dark Ones than anything else. Heed me, Rumplestiltskin, I’ll not lose you so soon.”

“As if you truly cared,” Rumple muttered.

“Why are you so certain that I don’t?” she demanded. She studied his face and then guessed at an answer. “Ah. You’re thinking of your wife’s little confession.”

“Watching that too, were you?”

“Of course,” she said, “You did well—at first.”

“And where, exactly, did I misstep?” Rumple asked her, “I suppose I should have kept my temper and spared Milah?”

“Oh, no,” Alessa said, shaking her head, “Well, not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it had been me,” Alessa said, “I would have killed the pirate—and left your wife to mourn. After all, Jones may have stolen her away—but it was _Milah_ who made the choice to go, to abandon Baelfire—and you.”

Rumple closed his eyes.

“She was more deserving of the harsher punishment, I think.”

Rumple felt her hand upon his cheek and he was forced at meet her eyes.

“As it is,” she continued, “You should have killed them both.”

“No,” Rumple said, “Let him live and suffer.”

“And suffer he shall, no doubt,” Alessa conceded, “but also will he plot. He has the potential to be a problem, Rumplestiltskin.”

“He’s just a rum-soaked pirate,” Rumple said with a sneer.

“He’s an enemy and you have given quite the motivation for vengeance,” Alessa said simply, “and if I have learned anything…you don’t leave enemies like that in your wake. They have a habit of biting you in the ass later. And in all honesty, Rumple, when it comes to that bean— with both Blue’s words and the seer’s predictions…I do not think it wise to try and divert them so. You should remain focused on building this curse.”

Rumple said nothing.

Alessa sighed and lifted her other hand, framing his face. “You are so young,” she murmured, “and so full of anger. I _know_ what that is. Listen now,” she told him, “Milah did you an injustice. She owed you an honest goodbye. I will tell you, I do not agree with her judgment of you. I may not have known you when she did, but no coward would have set fire to that duke’s castle. But it is no matter, for you are no longer the man you were. You are _more_. And all those people that knew you before—your wife, the pirate, the villagers—they are _nothing_. They are already _dust_.”

Rumple stared at her, not wanting to take the words to heart, but still they touched him.

“The only one that matters,” Alessa said, “is your son.”

“Yes,” Rumple murmured.

Now, Alessa smiled. She kissed him, lightly upon his lips and started to step away—but Rumple held her still, his hands suddenly on her shoulders. She looked at him, her head tilting to one side, reflecting her puzzlement. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t have said what had possessed him then, but he felt in that moment such a terrible loneliness, and an equally terrible need. He leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. Alessa froze a moment, but then lifted her hands to grip his shoulders, holding onto him as he did her.

It was a long moment before they drew apart. Rumple touched the back of his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress, unsure of what to do, or to say. She was equally silent. He attempted a smile, “Have you kissed all of your Dark Ones?” he joked.

But rather than laugh, like he expected, Alessa jerked back as though she’d been stung. “…Only the first,” she admitted softly. She pulled away from his hold, sitting again, and not looking at him.

Rumple’s eyes followed her. “Now I’ve made you sad,” he murmured.

Alessa said nothing, but she shook her head.

“What was his name?” Rumple asked, suddenly curious.

“Ulrich,” she whispered, the old hurt echoing in her bones.

Rumple knelt beside the chair, looking up at her. “What was he like?” he asked, “Will you tell me?”

Alessa smiled then, but it was tinged with bitter sorrow. “He was beautiful, full of impetuous anger, and grief enough to drown in. He’d had such a hard life before he came to power. The first thing he did—that _we_ did, really—was burn the village where he was born to ash and bone. He had such a passion in him and I loved him for it. He was, in truth, the most human of any of my Dark Ones. Save for you, I think,” she added, looking back at him at last. “He was younger than any other too. Only twenty when he chose the power.”

“Twenty?” Rumple repeated, raising a brow in a teasing expression, “and you, great Enchantress, were sharing kisses with him?”

“I was nineteen.”

_That_ made Rumple pause. It was so hard to image. For though she wore the visage of a young woman, her long years were too easily apparent in her eyes, in her voice. She was ageless, more myth than woman. To try and see her so, as a girl barely grown…

“How old are you now?” he asked, “I know that may be a rude question, but…”

“Honestly?” she said, “…I lost count after a thousand.”

She sounded so lost then.

Rumple took her hand in his. “Shall we have on with our lessons? Make up for yesterday?”

“I think that would be wise,” Alessa said. She leaned over, brushing her other hand down his cheek. “You’ve much to learn still, after all.” She gestured to the overturned table and all its scattered trinkets. “Clean up your mess,” she ordered with her usual smirk, “—and we’ll begin.” 


	9. Healer

 

January 3rd, 2012

 

 

 

 

Alessa was woken suddenly with someone pounding on her cottage door. She snapped up, realizing that it was just past midnight. She hurried to the door in her nightgown, knowing that only an emergency would bring one of the Merry Men to her door at such an hour. She threw open the door to see Friar Tuck there, quite red in the face and breathing hard.

“Friar, what’s happened?” Alessa demanded, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“It’s…it’s Roland,” the Friar gasped, “He woke up an hour ago, crying about his stomach. He’s burning up…We don’t know what’s wrong…”

Alessa turned on her heel and rushed to her cupboards, throwing together several jars and bags of herbs together in a basket. She shrugged on her cloak and ran out the door, with the Friar running after her.

It was mere moments before Alessa reached the camp. Little John saw her first and directed her at once to Robin’s tent, where she could hear Roland crying weakly.

“Robin?” she called, keeping her voice low.

Robin pulled back the edge of the tent door and gestured for her to enter.

Alessa was, at once, by Roland’s side. The poor little lamb was feverous, as the Friar had said, and he twisted in pain, clutching his belly. Alessa put a hand upon his forehead, not liking how warm the boy was. “Roland,” she said gently, “I need you to look at me.”

The little boy groaned, but turned his head towards her.

“Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

Roland did as she said, with a child’s easy trust. “Hurts,” he told her.

“I know, _leanabh_. Hold on.” She turned to see Robin, standing over her shoulder. She had never seen a man so frightened. “The Friar said that he woke an hour ago with this pain,” she said, “is that so?”

“Yes.”

“No complaints earlier?”

“He was a bit listless,” Robin said, “I thought he had just tired himself out. Please…Alessa, what’s wrong with him? Can you help?”

“I can help,” she assured him. She looked back to Roland. “Sweetling, did you go wandering sometime tonight before bed?”

Roland nodded once.

“Did you eat something you probably shouldn’t have?”

Again, the child nodded.

“What was it?”

“Berries.”

“Were they purple or red?”

“…Purple,” the boy said after a moment’s thought.

“How many did you eat? Do you remember?”

The boy held up two fingers.

“Just two? Are you sure?”

“Bad berry.”

Alessa smiled and ran a hand over his hair. “That’s very right. Bad berry.” Still smiling, she reached into the basket she had brought and pulled out one of the jars and a couple of pouches of herbs. “Bring me a cup, and some hot water,” she instructed Robin.

He did as requested, moving swiftly. “What did he eat?”

“It sounds like pokeweed, possibly something similar,” Alessa said a she mixed the liquid from the jar with the herbs, “Two berries would explain the stomach pain; the fever seems reactionary to the toxin. But he should be fine.” She poured the hot water over the mixture and stirred. “Roland, I need you to drink this. It isn’t going to taste very good, but it will make you feel better.”

The child made a face as he swallowed the mixture, but Alessa made certain that he’d drunk it all down.

“What is that?” Robin asked, kneeling beside them.

“Just something to coat his stomach,” Alessa said, “It should help get the berries out of his system. We should stay up with him, just to make sure. The fever’s a little worrisome. But all signs point to him being just fine by morning.”

Robin let out a breath, most of the tension leaving his frame. He sat down beside Roland’s cot, leaning his head against his son’s.

“I’d leave the scolding about eating strange berries for morning,” Alessa said.

“I am very glad to know you, Alessa.”

She smiled, but said nothing as she packed the jar and herbs away again. While Robin rested beside the boy, she went out to the central fire still burning in the camp. Most of the Merry Men were gathered around it, waiting anxiously for news.

“Roland should be just fine,” she told them as she dipped a cloth in the kettle of warm water hanging by the fire, “We’ll know for sure come morning.”

“Thank God,” Friar Tuck murmured, bowing his head.

Alessa touched a hand to his shoulder before going back to the tent. She sat on the edge of the cot once more and touched the cloth to Roland’s forehead. He was already cooler to the touch. Robin had nearly fallen asleep where he sat and Alessa let him. She could stay up to keep watch.  

When dawn came at last and Alessa fought to stay awake, she reached over to touch Roland’s cheek once more. He was covered with sweat, but the skin was cool. The fever had broken. Alessa bowed her head, relieved and somehow doubly exhausted now that the only uncertainty had passed. She shook Robin’s shoulder gently. The man snorted and then blinked. He frowned, glancing first at his son and then to Alessa.

“The fever’s gone,” she told him, keeping her voice soft so as not to wake the child, “He’s going to be alright.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, taking her hand.

“Not much to thank me for, Locksley,” she replied, “That infusion helped only with the stomach ache so he could sleep. His great luck that he only ate a couple of berries.”

“You helped to ease a worried father’s mind. Don’t discount how great that is.”

On impulse, Alessa reached out and ruffled Robin’s hair. “Well then, you’re welcome.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood, brushing out her skirt. Her legs were stiff from the very still position she’d been in the last few hours. Robin watched as she swayed a little on her feet. At once, he was standing beside her with a steadying hand.

“You are nearly dead on your feet. Take a rest for a moment.”

Alessa didn’t feel very inclined to argue. Robin laid out a blanket beside Roland’s cot and Alessa fell upon it. She was asleep before Robin had even tucked a second blanket over her.

 

 

 

 

“Ho, the camp!”

Alessa’s eyes snapped open at the bright and cheery call. Grumbling a bit, she sat up, holding her head. Her best guess told her that she’d only slept an hour or so. Better than naught, she supposed. She glanced at the cot beside her, but Roland was not there, nor was Robin in the tent.

Tilting her head slightly, she listened to the world outside. She could hear the sound of wagon wheel complaining on the less than perfect trails of the forest. She could hear several of the Merry Men speaking a distance away; and Roland’s laughter, along with the splash of water.

Alessa picked herself up, gathering her cloak around her, and stepped out into the sun. Her eyes were drawn to where Roland splashed happily in a metal tub near the central fire, his father kneeling beside him. She looked around, but it seemed that most of the Merry Men had drifted off to one side of the camp. Following the sounds she had heard, she saw that three uncovered wagons were approaching.

“Ross,” she murmured, “Of course.”

Robin had seen her and he smiled. “Good morning,” he called, waving her over.

“Good morning,” she replied, kneeling on the other side of the tub. She tousled Roland’s wet curls, smiling too. “How do you feel this morning?”

As Roland chatted happily, still splashing away, Alessa felt someone come up behind her. She turned her head slightly and smiled to see Reyn. The fox knelt beside the tub too and made a face at the child. Putting a hand on Alessa’s shoulder, Reyn leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Hello again.”

“Heyla, Reynard,” Alessa replied, “Has it been a month already?”

“Not quite, but we hit quite the mother lode this trip,” Reyn explained, “Ross didn’t want to push our luck.”

“Well, my men are always happy to see you lot,” Robin said, lifting Roland out of the water and wrapping him in a small robe. As soon as his father released him, the boy took off running, right into Ross’s arms. The captain laughed and swung the boy up onto his shoulders, ignoring the water that dampened his clothes.

“I believe this is yours,” Ross said, gesturing between Roland and his father, “If not, I’d be happy to have another man for my crew. What do you say, Roland, my lad? Want to sail the high seas?”

“I think not,” Robin said, taking the boy back into his own arms, “Maybe in a few more years.”

“You are no fun,” the captain claimed. His eyes lit up at the sight of Alessa, who was just standing. “Good morning, m’lady,” he said.

“Hello, Ross,” she said.

“Have you given up your cabin for the camp?” he asked.

“No,” Alessa said, very aware that she was only in a nightgown and cloak, “There was a bit of a scare with Roland last night.”

“My adventurous son got into some berries that he shouldn’t have,” Robin explained, “Friar Tuck went to our Enchantress for help.”

“I came running.”

“Without even shoes,” Ross noted.

Alessa blinked and looked down at her own feet. She hadn’t even realized. “Seems so,” she murmured, “But Roland is alright now.”

“You look exhausted,” Ross murmured, touching a hand to her chin.

“How charming you are,” she retorted, brushing his hand away with a smirk.

“She was up all night with us,” Robin said.

“It’s hardly the first time I’ve gone without sleep,” Alessa argued, “I’ll remind you, I’m very old. Sleep becomes less important now and then.”

“Perhaps you are out of practice,” Reyn suggested, passing by her and Ross.

Alessa opened her mouth for a retort, but the fox was already back at the wagons. She frowned, realizing she was nearly pouting. Before she could shake herself out of it, Reyn had returned, leading one of the pack horses over. The fox shared a quick look with Ross, who suddenly grinned.

“Well,” he said, “We should let our Enchantress rest. Allow me to escort you home, m’lady.”

“I hardly need an escort, Vampa.”

“Surely not,” he agreed, “but we wouldn’t want you stumbling through the forest without even shoes.”

Without warning, Ross had swept her up into his arms. Beyond surprised, and more than a little amused, she allowed him to place her on the horse. Ross took the lead from Reyn and gave her a wink.

“Shall we?” he asked Alessa, with a wave of his arm.

Alessa looked to Robin, who was trying valiantly not to laugh. “I’ll be back later,” she promised. Then, with her eyes cast towards the sky, she gestured to Ross. “Lead on, Captain.”

Ross led the horse down the path to Alessa’s cabin at a slow and even pace. Alessa closed her eyes, finding a sort of calm in the motion, surrounded by the cool morning air.

“Does it feel odd to have saved the day?” Ross asked her, glancing back.

“A bit, yes,” Alessa replied, opening her eyes. A soft, but unsettling thought clicked into place in her mind. “Ross, have you ever had that feeling…when you suddenly remind yourself of your own parent?”

“A fair few times,” he admitted, “The first time made me feel old; hearing my father’s words come out of my mouth. Why? Reminded yourself of your mother last night?”

“My father,” she corrected, “He was our village’s healer.”

“Ah,” Ross said, “Well, I think everyone has that feeling as they grow up.”

“Shame it took me a millennia and a half to feel it myself.”

“Better late than never?” Ross said with half a shrug.

Alessa went quiet again as they reached her gardens. Ross made sure to keep the horse on the path, keeping its hooves away from the crafted foliage. He took her right to the front door and offered a hand to Alessa. She took his hand and slipped down from the horse, but it was clear that her mind was no longer in the here and now. She touched the door to open it, but paused.

“Thank you, Captain,” she murmured, looking back at him.

“Of course, my lady,” he replied. He was frowning just slightly, as he considered her carefully. He started to say something, but stopped himself. Alessa tilted her head to the side, curious enough that she gestured him to speak. Ross shook his head. “Get some rest,” he told her gently, “and lay those darker thoughts to rest. You can hardly move forward, carrying them like you seem to.”

“That’s a lot of thoughts to cast aside, Ross,” she said, “Keep in mind, I’ve carried them for centuries now, adding more each year.”

“You are an old soul, I get it. But don’t make yourself your own martyr.”

Alessa blinked. “Ross. Are you accusing me of wallowing in self pity?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not,” he countered.

She didn’t immediately reply. “Well. Empty Night, I do believe you’re right.”

“Can’t change the past, ‘Lessa. No point going over it again and again. Focus on the future, and what kind of person you want to be _now_. And right now, you’re the woman who comforted and cared for a sick little boy and his very worried father. None of us give a damn what you used to be, and neither should you.”

“Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.”

“I’m not telling you to forget it,” Ross told her, and Alessa was rather fascinated by his sudden temper. “I’m telling you to not let it define you always.”

“You’re right,” Alessa said, holding up her hands in defeat, “You’re right. I’ll work on it, alright?”

Ross looked skeptical, but he nodded. With a quick smile, he bowed slightly to her. “I’ll leave you to your rest, then, m’lady.”

“Thank you, Ross.”

She waited until he had turned, leading the horse back towards Robin’s camp. Then she smiled, shaking her head, as she stepped inside her cottage.


	10. Interlude

 

 

 

 “Again.”

There was the slightest hard edge to the word, a signal to Rumplestiltskin that his teacher was losing patience. The sound made him shiver, while at the same time, frustrated him. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and lifted his hand.

A soft shimmering radiance filled the space between them and then solidified into a translucent wall of light. Rumple opened his eyes to see it and smirked just a little.

Alessa smirked too, but it wasn’t a kind expression. She raised her hand and Rumple winced as she touched a finger to the light. It shattered like glass, the pieces fading from sight before they reached the ground.

“Empty Night, my Dark One, but you are maddening.”

“I’m tired,” Rumple snapped.

“That means nothing,” Alessa snapped back, “I know you can tap into your power. I’ve seen you cast spells with nothing but pure instinct. But what you need, my darling one, is _control_.”

“I _have_ control.”

“You have nothing,” she countered. “Rumple, your reputation is growing. It won’t be long before people will try to either kill you or control you. Pray that if it happens, they kill you.”

“No one is going to find the dagger. I’ve hidden it too well.”

_Crack._

Rumple’s head snapped to the side as the back of Alessa’s hand met flesh. He clenched his fist, power gathering, and he struck back.

Alessa was blown back by a jolt of raw force. Her heels skidded in the dirt, but she remained standing. She smiled sharply, eyes sparkling with delight.

Without her even moving a finger, Rumplestiltskin was suddenly knocked off of his feet. He flew backwards, landing hard against a nearby tree.

As he toppled to the ground, Alessa slowly approached. “Not a bad strike,” she told him, “but do you honestly think that you were the first to try? You’re not even the first of my Dark Ones.”

“Did any of them ever come close?” he asked as he struggled to stand.

“Oh, a number of them,” Alessa told him, “but you’re not there yet, Rumplestiltskin. My little fledgling. You don’t even have all your feathers yet.”

“Tell me something,” Rumple said, leaning back against the tree, “Are you really so much more powerful than all of us?”

Alessa blinked and then she laughed. “Hardly,” she said, “Rumplestiltskin, when it comes to raw power—There are only a few creatures in this world that _match_ you, and fewer still that _surpass_ you. It’s not about _power_.” She stalked towards him and he felt himself freeze. “Make no mistake,” she told him, wrapping one delicate hand around his throat, “I have _great_ power, but what makes me dangerous,” she added, putting her face very close to his, “is that I know how to _use_ it.”

Rumplestiltskin felt his throat constrict beneath her hold and he choked.

“Now,” she murmured, “Let’s discuss why I struck you. Want to guess how many of my Dark Ones declared so boldly that their dagger was beyond any reach? How about how many of them fell and fell swiftly? It is that presumption, that arrogance, which brought them to dust. I have seen it a dozen times. I will _not_ see it happen again.”

She released him, both his throat and the spell that held him. She took a step back and considered him.

“Well,” she said lightly, “all in all, you haven’t done terribly today. Let us shift our focus to a more practical exercise.” She grinned and clapped her hands together like an excitable schoolteacher. “May I assume that you know what an Augurey is?”

“It’s a bird,” Rumple replied shortly.

“Very good,” Alessa said, her tone more than a little patronizing, “Elaborate.”

Rumple sighed. “It’s a _magical_ bird, kin to the phoenix. Its cry is said to foretell death, or signal other misfortunes to come.”

“Excellent,” Alessa told him, “but most is superstition. Now, what _is_ true about the Augurey is that’s its cry _does_ have magical properties, though foretelling or causing death is not one of them. Its _blood_ , however, is what concerns us. Or should I say, _you_.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Augurey blood is best used when writing curses.”

Rumple frowned, pensive. “I was under the impression that _squid ink_ had the best magical properties for such things.” His tone was a little sharp, for he’d gathered that impression from _her._

Alessa smiled. “For spells, there is little better than squid ink,” she explained, “but for the darker curses, especially, I think, such as the one you will need to build, you will require something less…malleable. Squid ink is useful, because it is often that a spell needs adjustment for everyday uses. It is variable. The Dark Curse must be written in stone.”

“And Augurey blood is that stone?”

“Precisely.”

Rumplestiltskin brushed leaves and dirt from his clothing, his mind whirling. “So, what is this _practical_ exercise you spoke of?”

“It is just your luck,” Alessa said, “that I know where an Augurey is nesting nearby.”

“Then let us go and bleed it.”

“A moment, my darling,” she said, holding up a hand, “for I would not want you to go rushing in without all knowledge needed. Like squid ink, Augurey blood is a dangerous component to acquire. Recall, I did say that the Augurey’s cry had magical properties.”

“You talk too much,” Rumple snapped, “Get to the point.”

“Very well,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “The Augurey is something rare in this world. It is a null.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my darling, that it cannot be affected by magic.”

Rumple felt a chill. “How am I supposed to bleed it then?”

“Thus why this exercise is so perfect,” Alessa said, that delighted sparkle coming back to her eyes, “You will have to figure out how to do so. _And_ , you have to be careful, for the Augurey’s cry extends that nullification. If the bird is frightened, it can take away your magic for a brief time.”

“You…you think I’m ready for this kind of challenge.”

“I do,” Alessa told him, her tone more soft, “Rumple, you accomplished more than you think when you were only a man. And power is only as formidable as the mind behind it. This is the lesson I’m trying to drill into that stubborn skull of yours.” She offered her hand to him. “Come. I’ll show you were your prey resides.”

Cautious as always, he took her hand and together they walked through the forest.

“May I ask you a question?”

“As I have said a thousand times,” Alessa said, “You may ask me anything.”

“Why do you dress like that?” he asked, gesturing to her dress.

Alessa paused, frowning slightly as her simple dress, a pale blue in color that day. “What do you mean?”

“You dress like a peasant,” he said, “A well-off peasant, surely, but a peasant nonetheless.”

“…Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“You? You were a peasant once? Like me?”

“I was,” she said, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.

Rumplestiltskin had begun to notice that whenever he delved too far back into his teacher’s history, the answers were not as forthcoming as she insisted they would be.

“Were you human once, as I was?”

“Not exactly.”

Rumple glanced down at their conjoined hands, wondering at how cold her palm had become.

They walked in silence until they reached the bottom of a jagged cliff. Alessa released his hand and pointed up. Rumple followed her hand and saw a large nest resting on one ledge of the rock. He could see movement above, but the bird itself wasn’t in clear sight.

“Come along,” she said, quietly, “I’ll go a ways up with you.”

She led him to a steep incline that would take them partway up. In near furtive silence, they ascended slowly, their eyes always on their goal above. When they were halfway up, Alessa stopped.

 “Now, my darling, the rest is up to you.”

Rumple looked at her and she saw the fear in his eyes. The question she could almost hear. What if he lost his magic and fell? Would she let him? She stared back at him with a level gaze, giving nothing. Rumplestiltskin turned his eyes back to the Augurey.

“Question,” he said softly, “Can they sense magic?”

“Clever boy. No, they cannot.”

“Alright then.”

“One last thing,” Alessa said, “Though, this is not a requirement. The Augurey is a rare bird. Do your best not to kill it.”

With a muttered curse and a breath, he began to climb, his movements slow and careful. Alessa watched him, unblinking, her heart in her throat. As he neared the Augurey, though, she suddenly smiled.

“I was wondering when you’d show your face.” Without taking her eyes off of her Dark One, she gave a small nod to the fairy that had appeared close to her. “Afternoon, Reul Ghorm.”

“What are you up to, Alessa?” Blue demanded.

“I could ask _you_ the same, dear Blue,” Alessa retorted, “For centuries, you have left my Dark Ones to their own devices until they posed serious threat. What prompted you to interfere with Rumplestiltskin?”

“I have no reason to explain myself to you.”

“No, I suppose not,” Alessa said with a sigh, “Pity. It would simplify matters greatly, you know.”

“What does the Dark One need of an Augurey?”

Alessa smiled. “You’ll see. If you haven’t already, that it.”

“You’re helping him, aren’t you?” Blue demanded, “Do you even realize what such a curse would _do_? Are you really prepared to rend the world so? For what? For the satisfaction of doing me ill?”

It was then that Alessa took her eyes from Rumplestiltskin and looked at Blue. She was still smiling, but there was something cold and unfathomable in her gaze.

“Count your blessings,” she said softly, “that I am not more than I am. You remember what my mistress wanted of me. You ought to be grateful that I am satisfied with being the perpetual thorn in your side.”

“You will cross a line with this curse, Alessa.”

“Safe to say you crossed it first,” she replied.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“One of these days, you really must stop playing the innocent. It’s rather grating on my nerves. What did I mean? I mean, simply, that _you_ put this all into motion. Not only your actions last year with Baelfire—but the course you set for us all those centuries ago. Tell me, truly, how I could ever be other than I am now?”

 “You are a monster.”

“Oh, the very best.”

Alessa looked back to Rumplestiltskin and watched with a touch of pride as he conjured a wide net. He’d moved above the bird, moving silently.

“Now,” Alessa murmured, “go away, little mother. You’re distracting me.”

Blue blanched at the off-handed nickname, her wings fluttering fitfully. She cast a furtive glance at the Dark One. He was very close to his goal.

“Do. Not.”

Alessa’s words were low and firm. The fairy clenched her jaw, holding back words unspoken. But they would not stay so.

“If it were in my nature at all, I would hate you.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself so,” Alessa told her, “I know what you’re capable of, even if you can’t admit it to yourself.”

“I will stop you,” Blue stated, “Until my last breath, I will not see you succeed.”

“Promises, promises.” Without looking at her, Alessa held up one finger and pointed it at the fairy. “Go, or I will be unkind.”

Silent now, the fairy vanished in a flash of pale blue light. Alessa smirked and dropped her hand. Blinking, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Rumplestiltskin had thrown the net down and the Augurey was caught. It cried out and both he and Alessa shuddered. She watched as Rumple faltered, suddenly afraid, but he pushed through, tying off the net so that the bird could not move. He took a vile and a small knife from his vest and carefully drew a line on the bird’s sternum. It was not a deep cut; he had taken Alessa at her word and did not want to damage the Augurey permanently. He held the vile to the cut, his free hand putting gentle pressure on the bird’s back. After a few minutes, he straightened, still moving carefully. He climbed back into the larger ledge above the bird’s nest and then leaned down to cut the net. The bird burst free and Alessa’s heart shuddered when its wing clipped Rumple’s shoulder.

But moments later, he was at her side, holding the vile of blood. He still looked shaken, but he presented Alessa the vile with a flourish.

“Well done, darling,” she told him. She reached out, closing his fingers around the vile, and with her other hand, she touched his cheek, “I knew you could do it.”

“Doesn’t look like I expected,” Rumple said, holding up the vile. The blood was dark, almost blue in color. He stuck the vile in his pocket. “When will my power return?”

“Within the hour,” Alessa assured him.

“Good, good.” He took a breath and took a step back, removing Alessa’s hand from his cheek. “Now—what did the fairy want?”

“…Clever boy,” Alessa said after a moment, “She seems concerned that I’m helping you build this curse.”

“She had to expect it.”

“I’m sure that a part of her did,” she said, “But in any case, I have a habit of making her nervous.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“It is always best to keep the fairies in mind,” Alessa told him, “They and I have been enemies for a thousand years and even I could not tell you how to predict them.”

 “Why?”

Alessa blinked. “Why what?”

“Why are you enemies? What began it?”

The Enchantress smiled slowly, but Rumplestiltskin caught the smallest flash of sorrow in her eyes before it faded and became cold. “We could be nothing else,” she murmured, rather echoing the words she’d said to Blue, “But it is the most ancient of history and hardly worth the hearing. Come now,” she said, her smile becoming warm nonce more, “You’ve done marvelously today. Let me show you how to utilize the prize you’ve captured.”

She turned and started to climb back down the cliff edge. Rumple did not immediately follow. His eyes flashed between his teacher and the spot in the sky where the Blue Fairy had vanished.


End file.
